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You’re on your way home from a house party in Deptford, it’s about 3am. The party was kinda shit, a few good moments but nothing memorable. You look at your phone to check the journey home; 1h 5min. Still kinda drunk and a little high, jean jacket smells a bit of beer you spilt on it earlier. Waiting at the bus stop, shady figures walking by as you wonder will one of them approach? A hint of anxiety. Nope, they all just pass by, I suppose they have places to be, even at this time of night; people to see, beds to crawl into. The night bus arrives a little early, you get on.

Top floor of the double-decker. You see street lamps pass at regular intervals, traffic signals turn from green to red and back to green. Right turns, left turns. Suburb gradually turns to inner city without you realising as you’re trying not to drift off into your dreams. There’s a few bus changes you'll have to make so you’ll have to hold off sleeping until you reach home, where ever that is...

Next thing you know you’re in Piccadilly Circus. Ffs, must have dosed off thinking of the person you were tryna hit on at the party, how you would have played it differently and it might have worked. Missed your stop by miles, may as well hit up your mate living a 20min walk away. You jump off the night bus right before the doors close, waving thanks at the driver. First thing’s first: send a message to see if they’re awake to let you in. Second thing’s second, roll a cigarette and await a reply. Inhale, exhale. Sitting at the empty bus stop in central London, the lit up advertisements are hazy but bright, eyes are not well adjusted enough from what buzz remains and the on-coming fatigue. BUZZ

“yh come thru”

Nice. You roughly know the way from here. You stumble, but autopilot is initiated, just let your legs guide you. More anxiety engages as apparently normal people pass you by, each vulture staring right into you, judging your state, or so you assume. Fuck ‘em. Don’t need ‘em. Zig-zagging through street names, down back alleys, across main roads, hands in pockets, earphones on. A look over the shoulder as you could have sworn someone was following you... Your shadow shortens and then elongates as you walk under each lamp post and stretches sideways with each vehicle skimming past you. The sun may even start rising in an hour or so but for now you’re still dowsed in a shade of dark blue. The shops are empty but the displays are still on inside, to ward off burglars? Probably wouldn’t work if you ask me. You just think with each step you take- you’re closer to sleep. Converse are not comfortable to walk in for long periods of time, but they’re limited edition so they’re worth the pain.

Eyes are blurring at the advertisements rolling on each block, you have no interest in what they’re selling however pretty or in-your-face they might make them. Tomorrow’s problems are tomorrow’s problems. Don’t step on the cracks. You could do with a McDonalds but you don’t get paid until Friday. Too tired to deal with ordering and waiting anyway. You have to walk through a rowdy group ahead, fists clenched in your denim jacket pockets ready to defend if it comes to it. You’re fine, they’re just jumped up from being in whatever crappy club they were wasting their money at. How many steps must you have travelled today? How long have you been walking? How long was left of this pilgrimage? Streets feel unfamiliar but your feet seem to know where they’re going. Either way, going somewhere in life is better than standing still. Is it this left? Yes, now you know where you are for sure. Not long now. The final stretch. You can reduce your walking speed seen as you’re in known territory. What number door was it again? Ah yes, the red one. Ring door bell. Wait. Please wake up. Phone is out of battery. Look left. Look right. Wait. You didn’t come all this way for them to not open the door. Hallway light comes on inside.

An internal sigh of relief to see the door open and your friend welcome you into the lair. You can finally leave yesterday behind with a zoot and a cup of hot tea. You sleep like a baby on the sofa in your denim jeans and your denim jacket as a blanket.